Page 59 of Holmes Is Missing

“Brendan!”

Poe’s voice. Holmes spotted his partner at the edge of the scene, and Duff standing on the other side of a patrol car. Holmes pushed past a gaggle of plainclothes detectives, their badges dangling on lanyards over their street clothes, and made his way over to his partner.

“How was Delaware?” asked Poe.

“Clarifying,” said Holmes. “What’s going on?”

“Three baby girls. One female kidnapper.” Poe pointed to the door. “They’re holed up in that studio.”

Holmes looked around. “Why here?” he asked. “What is this place?”

“Film studio,” said Poe. “The babies were here to shoot a diaper commercial.”

Holmes peered over the top of the patrol car. Duff was standing in the open a few yards away, his tall frame looming over a man with a bullhorn.

“Negotiator?” asked Holmes.

Poe nodded again. “He’s been talking with her for the past half hour. No progress.”

The negotiator’s bullhorn was not currently in use. It was dangling by a strap over his shoulder. He was talking through a headset, wires hanging down his side. Duff had an earpiece too. Holmes started toward them. A cop grabbed him from behind. Holmes pounded his hand on the roof of the cop car. “Duff!” he shouted. The captain turned, yanked the earpiece out of his ear, and walked over.

He glared at Holmes. “Now you too?”

“What does she want?” asked Holmes.

“Not much,” said Duff tersely. “Just free passage to JFK with the babies, plus a private jet and a pilot and enough fuel to get across the Atlantic.”

“She’s improvising,” said Holmes. “This wasn’t part of the plan.”

“Well, there’s no way in hell she’s getting any of it.”

“Any way to take her down?” asked Poe.

“We’re trying to get a camera inside,” said Duff. “But the place is built like a brick shithouse. Soundproofed and everything, for movies. We can’t use teargas or flash-bangs because of the babies.” He nodded toward the press vans. “Last thing we need on live TV is a bunch of stunned, deaf infants.”

On the other side of the car, the negotiator pressed his hand tight to his earpiece. He turned toward the captain with a grim expression. Duff jerked his head to call him over.

“Any movement?” Duff asked as the man neared.

The negotiator clicked off his comms device. “She’s giving us fifteen minutes to give them transport,” he said. “Or she’ll start killing the babies.”

CHAPTER64

IT WAS ALREADY7 p.m. in London. Marple was pacing in a tiny office in the bowels of the task force annex. PC Dodgett was sitting at a small metal desk, drumming his fingers on the cover of a case binder. Marple was clutching her phone so hard her knuckles were white.

She’d heard from Poe when he’d arrived in Queens. He could only tell her what he knew, that it was a crime in progress. Beyond that, she was totally in the dark. And still nothing from Holmes. Was he lost in the wilds of Delaware or somewhere else off the grid? Marple was furious with him for picking today of all days to go off exploring his family history.

She dialed Poe again. The call connected, then dropped.

“Maybe the signals are jammed,” said Dodgett. “From all the police activity.”

Marple was exasperated. “This is Scotland Yard, for God’s sake! You don’t have boosters?”

“Main building, yes,” said Dodgett, “but bare bones down here, I’m afraid.”

“Well, then,” said Marple, grabbing her coat, “let’s get to headquarters. I need to—”

The phone jittered in her hand. Dodgett sat up straight in his chair. Marple looked at the screen. It was an incoming FaceTime call—from Holmes. After a momentary glitch, his face filled the screen. Marple felt a flood of relief.

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